


accidentally in love

by nightswatch



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-26
Updated: 2015-07-26
Packaged: 2018-04-11 10:22:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4431608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightswatch/pseuds/nightswatch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire needs a date for his ex's wedding, because he really doesn't want to go on his own. Combeferre happens to have time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	accidentally in love

**Author's Note:**

> Written for an anon prompt I got on my [writing blog](http://musains.tumblr.com/): 'I don't want to go to my exs wedding alone and our mutual friend said you're free'. 
> 
> (Sorry about the title.)

“Courfeyrac, you love weddings,” Grantaire said as way of greeting.

Courfeyrac, currently preoccupied with shoving a huge chocolate chip cookie into his mouth, started nodding frantically and pointed at the chair across from him. He quickly swallowed down his cookie. “Tell me everything, who are you marrying?”

“I’m not getting married.” Grantaire laughed. Even just the thought was hilarious to him. “But Floreal is and,” Grantaire pulled the invitation he’d got today out of his bag, “I’m allowed to bring a date.”

“Aw, you want me to be your date?” Courfeyrac cooed and snatched the invitation from him. “Aren’t you just the cutest?”

Grantaire snorted. “I do my best.”

“She’s getting married to a guy called Henry Bartholomew Stewart? Is she sure about that?”

“That’s what I said,” Grantaire muttered, shaking his head. He had no idea what Floreal saw in him, but that was probably none of his business anyway. “He’s a banker. And he’s also super rich and they’re getting married at this huge hotel and his entire family is flying in from England. It’s going to be ridiculous.”

“Dude, I would totally go with you,” Courfeyrac said and sighed mournfully, “but that wedding is on my mom’s birthday, so you’ll have to find someone else.”

Grantaire groaned. He was slowly but surely running out of options. “Any suggestions?”

Courfeyrac smiled broadly. “Actually, yes. Combeferre.” He pointed at Combeferre, who was currently standing behind the Musain’s counter, smiling faintly when Courfeyrac most enthusiastically tried to wave him over.

“I’ll be right there,” Combeferre said and continued to make coffee.

Grantaire had no idea how Combeferre even had time to work here in addition to his classes and all his volunteering at the children’s hospital. But that was beside the point. “You want me to take Combeferre? As my date for my ex-girlfriend’s wedding?”

“Why not? Combeferre looks great in a suit, I promise. Everyone will be jealous because your date will be the hottest.”

“The longest conversation I’ve had with him was like fifteen minutes long and we were both wasted and talked about aliens,” Grantaire said dryly. Not that it hadn’t been an enjoyable conversation, not that he didn’t like Combeferre, but he had a feeling that taking him might end up being a little awkward.

“Come on, that’s not true. Remember when you were reading the same book at the same time and you talked about it for like three hours and I had to drag Combeferre home?” Courfeyrac said. He did have a point. “I mean, I bet you don’t want to ask Enjolras. And Combeferre is nice. You know that Combeferre is nice.”

“Of course I know, but...” Grantaire trailed off when Combeferre came over to their table.

Combeferre smiled at them. “How can I help you?”

“Someone,” Courfeyrac said, pointing at Grantaire, “needs a date for a wedding in August. You have been chosen.”

“Floreal’s wedding?” Combeferre asked with a glance at the invitation.

“I can’t go there on my own, seriously,” Grantaire said. “But I get if you don’t want to, I mean, you’ll need a suit and we’ll have to go to this place in the country and watch a bunch of rich people complain about appetizers.”

“Oh, but Combeferre loves going to weddings,” Courfeyrac said and gave Combeferre a nudge. “Right, Combeferre?”

“I haven’t been to one in a long time.” Which technically wasn’t exactly a confirmation. “I can go with you, I don’t have any plans that day.”

“So you’re not coming to my mom’s birthday party with me?” Courfeyrac asked, then he laughed when he saw Grantaire’s face. “Nah, I’m just fucking with you, Combeferre only comes home with me for my parents’ annual Christmas party.”

Grantaire sighed, then the turned to Combeferre. “You really don’t mind?”

“Not at all, it’ll be fun,” Combeferre said. “I have to get back to work, I’ll talk to you later.”

“Don’t worry,” Courfeyrac said once Combeferre was back behind the counter, “I’ll buy him a new tie, because the ones he has all look like he stole them from my grandpa.”

* * *

“I don’t get why she even invited me,” Grantaire grumbled as he slipped on his suit jacket. He hadn’t worn it in a while and he’d wanted to see if it still fit. And he also seemed to have trouble finding his tie. Which was bad since the wedding was two days from now and he didn’t actually have time to buy a new one. At least the suit fit. He didn’t need a tie. “I don’t need a tie, do I?”

Bahorel tilted his head, eyebrows raised. “Yeah, you do.” He stood up and started rummaging through Grantaire’s closet – Grantaire didn’t even want to think about what he might end up digging up. “You know, I’m pretty sure she just wanted to be nice. I mean, you guys are friends.”

“Yeah, we were friends before she decided to marry a banker.”

Bahorel snorted. “Aw, come on, you’ll get free food and free drinks and you can make fun of all the weird people at the wedding.”

“There probably won’t be any weird people,” Grantaire muttered and flopped down on his bed. “Just bankers.” And him. And Combeferre. “Maybe I should just cancel, isn’t there a bug going around or something?”

“There’s _always_ a bug going around,” Bahorel said and turned around to glare at him. “And you look perfectly fine to me.”

“Going to that wedding is still a terrible idea.”

“This sweater is a terrible idea, to be honest,” Bahorel said and held up a ratty brown sweater that was actually a few sizes too big for Grantaire. “Anyway, it won’t be too bad with Combeferre there. All you need is a tie. Where do you usually keep them?”

“There is no _them_ , I only have one.”

“Ew, how long have you had these shoes?” Bahorel said and picked up a pair of Grantaire’s trainers.

“I wear those to the gym every week.” Grantaire threw a pillow at Bahorel. “Dude, just give up, I probably lost that tie somewhere.”

“Fine, do you want one of mine?”

“I do appreciate the offer, but...” Grantaire shrugged. He knew what Bahorel’s ties looked like and while they were hilarious, he didn’t want Combeferre to be embarrassed to be seen with him either. “I guess I’ll just buy a new one tomorrow.”

Bahorel grinned. “Want to look nice for Combeferre, huh?”

Grantaire gave him a shove. “No.”

“Right,” Bahorel said, nodding knowingly. “But you’re sharing a room with him, aren’t you?”

“It’s cheaper.” Actually Grantaire hadn’t thought that they’d be staying the night, but in the end they’d decided that it’d probably be reasonable not to drive home in the middle of the night. They’d found a nice inn not too far from the wedding location – well, Combeferre had. Combeferre had also offered to drive them there.

Grantaire still wasn’t sure what he and Combeferre were going to talk about, but he’d figure that out. Maybe they could exchange book recommendations. Anyway, Combeferre was nice, like Courfeyrac had said, and Grantaire knew that Combeferre had a multitude of interests, so they wouldn’t run out of conversation topics. Grantaire didn’t even know why this felt so awkward to him.

He sighed. “I just don’t want to show up to the wedding with your favorite rubber ducky tie.”

“Aw, come one,” Bahorel said, “I would have given you the pink one with the hearts.”

“Yeah, I’m definitely buying a new one.”

Grantaire managed to find one that wasn’t ridiculously expensive and, according to the girl who sold it to him, it also matched his eyes perfectly. Grantaire hadn’t cared so much about what it matched, he’d just made sure that there were no ducks on it.

* * *

“This place is nice,” Combeferre said, the amusement clear in his voice as he slowly walked up the wooden stairs that creaked with every step that he took. “Very rustic.”

“Rustic,” Grantaire echoed, “yeah, that’s spot on.” The inn vaguely reminded Grantaire of some sort of medieval tavern. Well, if electricity had been invented yet. Grantaire had to admit that the inn did have a certain charm and, to be honest, he’d stayed at far worse places over the years.

“Well, it’s not like we’re going to spend too much time here,” Combeferre said. “And I read some reviews on the internet. There weren’t too many, but everyone agreed that the breakfast buffet here is heavenly.”

“I’m so glad that we decided not to drive home.”

Combeferre laughed and put the key in the lock. “Me too. It’s much less of a hassle this way.” He pushed the door open, but instead of going inside he froze right in the doorway.

“Um, Combeferre?” He wasn’t tall enough to look over Combeferre’s shoulder, so he gave him a poke. “Something wrong? Is it _too_ rustic?”

“There’s only one bed,” Combeferre said. He stepped aside so Grantaire could see for himself.

There really only was one bed, but it was a big one and he’d overheard the receptionist say something about all the rooms at the inn being booked, so they probably couldn’t get a different one. It didn’t matter, really. “It’s big enough for both of us.” Grantaire had shared beds with multiple people at the same time, he’d stayed at Bahorel’s, together with Courfeyrac and Jehan in the same bed as them, plus Joly and Bossuet on the couch. “Unless you–”

“No, of course,” Combeferre said. “I’m sure we’ll manage.” He dropped his bag next to the bed and checked his watch. They’d meant to get here much earlier, but they’d stopped for lunch and it had taken a bit longer than anticipated. “We better get changed. Google maps said that it’s a ten minute walk to the wedding venue from here.”

“I’m so glad that I asked you to come here with me.” Grantaire hadn’t bothered to check anything. He’d just thought they’d find their way there somehow. They could have asked someone. Or they could have just tried to sniff the air and follow the smell of pretentiousness.

Combeferre only smiled and pulled his suit out of his bag. “I’ll...” He pointed at the bathroom and quickly vanished, leaving Grantaire to deal with his own suit.

When he unpacked his shirt, he realized that he probably should have bothered to iron it. It was too late now, though. He’d just keep on his suit jacket all day and no one would even notice. First of all he needed to get his tie under control, because it really wasn’t cooperating. Grantaire should have asked the girl at the store to tie it for him. He’d looked up how to do this a few years ago, but unsurprisingly he’d forgotten pretty much everything about it. He once again played with the thought of just going without a tie. Ties were overrated anyway.

Grantaire still wasn’t quite done struggling when Combeferre emerged from the bathroom. And Courfeyrac had been right, he did look fantastic in a suit. And he was wearing a... “Bowtie?”

“It’s Courfeyrac’s,” Combeferre said. “Apparently all my ties are unacceptable and should be sacrificed to the tie gods as a formal apology.” He grinned. “Do you need help with that? I’m really not an expert, but I’m pretty sure that it’s not supposed to look like that.”

Grantaire snorted. “Feel free to fix it.”

Combeferre did so, swiftly, smiling down at him. “That’s a nice tie.”

“It’s new, I couldn’t find the other one.” Grantaire pulled on his jacket and picked up the present he’d bought. “Ready?”

“Yeah, let’s go,” Combeferre said and opened the door for him. “You look nice.”

“It’s the tie, isn’t it?” Grantaire grinned. “I’ve been told that it matches my eyes.”

Combeferre smiled. “It does.” He held up the key. “Let’s leave this at the reception until we get back, alright?”

“Yeah, that’s probably for the best,” Grantaire said and followed him out into the hallway. Honestly, Grantaire was already convinced that asking Combeferre to come with him had been the best decision of all time.

* * *

“Grantaire, it’s so good to see you again.” Floreal’s little sister, Aurélie, came running over to him in what Grantaire assumed was her bridesmaid dress. “And you brought a date,” she smiled broadly and shook Combeferre’s hand. “Hey, I’m Aurélie, the bride’s sister.”

“I’m Combeferre,” he said. Nothing about the fact that they weren’t actually dating. “It’s very nice to meet you.”

Aurélie smiled brightly and gave Grantaire a pat on the back. “Well done, he’s super hot,” she whispered to him. “I should go, I need to check on Flo. The table for the gifts is right inside, and you two lovelies can go find yourselves a seat in the Rose Room.” She winked at them and then she was off, smiling and waving at everyone else she came across before she vanished back in the hotel.

Grantaire cleared his throat and looked around, not sure if he wanted to take a closer look at Combeferre’s face to see whether or not he’d heard what Floreal’s sister had said to him.

“This hotel is really impressive, isn’t it?” Combeferre said and gently took Grantaire by the elbow to lead him inside where they found what was unmistakably the gifts table. “I wonder how old this place is.”

“I’m pretty sure that there’s someone around here who can tell you,” Grantaire mused and dumped his present between all the others that were already on the table.

“Do you think we can take a look around?” Combeferre buried his hands in his pockets. “Later, obviously. Sorry, I just really like old buildings.”

“No, it’s fine, let’s snoop around later,” Grantaire said. “Maybe we’ll find some hidden passageways or a secret underground tunnel back to the inn.” He was joking around, sure, but this place really was impressive and he wouldn’t be surprised if there actually were secret passageways somewhere around here.

Grantaire soon figured out why the room the wedding was going to take place in was called the Rose Room. The roses were everywhere – on the walls, on the chairs, on the wedding programs. And there were real roses, too. They were even handed roses to put on their suits.

“This is like...” Grantaire shook his head. “It’s like a real life Hollywood movie crossed with all princess fantasies that anyone has ever had.”

“I feel like my suit isn’t expensive enough,” Combeferre muttered as he pinned the rose to his jacket.

Grantaire snorted and did the same. Combeferre was right, though. Everything here probably cost more than Grantaire would earn in his entire live. He really couldn’t blame Floreal for marrying a banker with a rich family, because this was kinda cool. And the food would probably be amazing. Well, obviously Floreal wasn’t marrying him for the money, but still.

“Are you two with the bride or the groom?”

“The bride,” Grantaire said and the girl who’d asked them ushered them to the left with a big smile on her face that didn’t quite hide that she definitely needed some help, seeing how many guests were arriving right now.

The seats all around them filled up quickly and Grantaire recognized a few of the guests from when Floreal had introduced them a couple of years ago when they’d been dating during their first year at university. There was also a couple that Grantaire had seen at the inn earlier when they’d checked in. And then some of Floreal’s friends sat down next to them and that was when – or so Grantaire believed – everything went horribly wrong.

“Oh hey,” one of them said and Grantaire did remember her, he just wasn’t sure why. “You’re Flo’s ex, aren’t you? Grantaire? It’s so nice to see you again. And Floreal said you’d bring your boyfriend, it’s so lovely to see that you’ve moved on.” She smiled brightly. “You know, at first I thought, oh wow, that must have been quite the break up with you two, you know, because you’re with a guy now, but you two look so sweet together. This is so great, the two of you together, like a match made in heaven.”

Grantaire remembered her now. Not her name, but she was the one who always talked a lot. Mainly a lot of bullshit. Yep, that was definitely her. And she didn’t even give Grantaire a chance to tell her that Combeferre wasn’t in fact his boyfriend, she just kept on talking, because she apparently felt like she needed to catch Grantaire up on what had happened in her life ever since he’d broken up with Floreal six years ago. Grantaire was actually glad when the wedding started because that finally got her to stop talking.

Combeferre only shot him an amused glance, but didn’t otherwise say anything, so Grantaire could probably stop being mortified. After the ceremony, everyone – sadly not including Grantaire – would have forgotten that the word boyfriend had ever been uttered.

It was a lovely ceremony, Floreal’s dress was an absolute dream and tears were shed all around. Grantaire was pretty sure that he’d be sniffling as well if he was someone who cried at weddings. Floreal’s talkative friend quickly recovered afterwards and was already gushing about the decorations, but was luckily whisked away by her other friends, who all smiled at Grantaire and Combeferre before they walked off.

“Where are we going?” Combeferre asked lowly.

“I guess we’ll just go where everyone else is going,” Grantaire muttered and took Combeferre by the hand so he wouldn’t lose him amidst all the people who were headed out the door and down a corridor that led into yet another similarly decorated and even bigger room. Drinks and appetizers were served and Grantaire could even spy an ice sculpture.

“This is ridiculous,” Grantaire said and took a sip of his champagne. Definitely expensive.

“Should we...” Combeferre nodded over at where Floreal and banker were standing, smiling at the people who came by to congratulate them. There was already a line forming.

“Yeah, sure.” Grantaire tugged Combeferre with him, which was incidentally also when he noticed that he was still holding his hand. It would have been weird to let go now, though, so Grantaire waited until they were also standing in line before he did.

Combeferre smiled faintly and snatched them both a stuffed mushroom from a passing waiter. “You know, I used to wait at fancy parties much like this one when I first started university.”

Grantaire grinned. “Oh boy. So I guess you’re not all that impressed?”

“Oh, I am sufficiently entertained, believe me.”

“Good, I don’t want to be responsible for the most boring weekend of your life.”

“No worries,” Combeferre said. “If you hadn’t asked me to come, I’d probably be sitting around at home all on my own.”

“Right, because Courfeyrac went home for his mom’s birthday.”

“Exactly,” Combeferre confirmed. “So...” He handed his empty glass to a waiter who’d been hovering nearby. “I meant to ask you earlier, you and Floreal used to be a couple, right?”

“Yeah, but that was ages ago. We met during the first week of university. She was in the wrong class and I was nice enough to tell her after she told me how excited she was about studying sociology for ten minutes. I’m pretty sure that the lecture she actually wanted to go to was in an entirely different building. Anyway, we met again at some party, we hooked up, we started dating and... I wasn’t a great boyfriend, to be honest, so I get why she broke up with me.”

“Well, at least you stayed friends.”

“Not at first. I ran into her again about two years after we broke up and we’ve tried to keep in touch ever since. I mean, you know her from my birthday parties and all that.”

Combeferre hummed, but didn’t say anything, because they’d almost made it through to Floreal and Henry.

They’d barely uttered their congratulations when Floreal had already pulled Grantaire into a hug. “Grantaire, you never told me that Combeferre was your boyfriend, seriously, I’m so disappointed, but I’m also really happy for you.” She let go of him and turned to Combeferre. “Hey, it’s so nice to see you again. You two have a good time, I’ll come by your table later on, I promise. And don’t worry about Henry’s relatives, they’re cool. Henry’s cousin brought her girlfriend, too.”

Grantaire would have loved to explain to that she’d got it all wrong, but there were other people waiting, and Floreal also seemed so excited about the idea of him and Combeferre dating and Grantaire didn’t really have it in him to disappoint her right now. He just quickly shook Henry’s hand, so did Combeferre and then they stepped aside so other people could have their turn.

“Well,” Combeferre said once they’d moved away from Floreal and Henry, “I guess you’re my boyfriend now. When did that happen?”

Grantaire laughed. “I have no idea, but hey, _boyfriend_ , how about we figure out where our table is?”

“Sure yes, I believe there’s a seating chart over there,” Combeferre mumbled and pointed over at the door through which they’d come in earlier.

Grantaire snatched some more appetizers on the way there and then tried to find their names on the seating chart, which proved a lot more difficult than he’d expected, because there were so many guests.

“We’re here,” Combeferre eventually said and pointed at table 34.

It was pretty far in the back, but also close to one of the two bars. Grantaire wasn’t sure how Combeferre felt about dancing anyway, so he didn’t mind that they weren’t actually that close to the dancefloor. He’d meant to ask Floreal to save him a dance, but she had other obligations for now.

“Look at these place cards,” Grantaire said as he flopped down in his seat, “they’re handwritten. Do you think that’s real gold?”

“I don’t think I’d be surprised if it were.” Combeferre spent a while inspecting the table and the flower arrangement in the middle and the doors that led out to a balcony on their right, and then he eventually turned to Grantaire. “So... we’re going to go with that, um, boyfriend thing?”

That was a good question. Grantaire knew that it was a terrible idea. He was pretty sure that Floreal’s talkative friend had told her that he and Combeferre were a couple since they hadn’t actually denied it earlier, it was probably too late to set things right. “Well, I guess at this point no one’s gonna believe us if we tell them that we’re not actually together.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Combeferre said, his expression unreadable for a moment.

“I’ll just tell Floreal that she misunderstood the whole thing when she’s back from her honeymoon. Or that we broke up. I’ll set a reminder on my phone or something.”

To be honest, Grantaire was sure that other than that he’d have to tell Floreal that he didn’t actually have a boyfriend this wasn’t a big deal. There were much more interesting things happening anyway. They weren’t the ones who’d just got married, they were just two guests who were sitting at a table in the back. No one knew them that well anyway.

It turned out that Grantaire had been grievously wrong about this whole thing not being a big deal. Because the other four couples who eventually came to sit with them were incredibly interested in the two of them. At first it was pretty harmless. They talked about how they knew Floreal, about where they were from, about university, about work, but at some point the conversation turned from what a great couple Floreal and Henry were to marriage in general. That was when the girl next to Grantaire gave him a nudge. “You two are a couple as well, right?”

And because Grantaire and Combeferre had agreed that no one would believe them if they said no, he only nodded.

“Lovely,” she said, smiling maybe just a little too brightly. “For how long have you been together?”

That really caught Grantaire off guard. They didn’t have a story or anything. He probably should have just said no and had a laugh about whether or not the two of them were too shy to say that they were a couple. What he did instead was to say, “Oh, um, a while.”

Combeferre thankfully came to his rescue. “I think it’s been nearly six months now.”

“Aw, that’s so cute, you have an anniversary coming up then.”

Combeferre, for a moment, looked like he wanted to make a comment about anniversaries being yearly occurrences.  Eventually he just smiled pleasantly. “Well, what about you all?”

Grantaire had never been so happy to know Combeferre. _Well done_ , he mouthed as the couple across from them started telling the incredibly long-winded story of how they’d met. And of how they’d got married and about how they wanted to have children soon. Which was when the conversation turned back to them.

“Have you thought about having children? Well, adopting children, I should say.”

“Oh, they’ve only been together for a few months, they probably haven’t talked about it yet.”

“They should talk about it, it’s going to come up at some point.”

“Maybe they’re not ready for children yet and would like to postpone that conversation.”

“Well, maybe one of them is ready and...”

Combeferre leaned over to Grantaire with a smirk. “This isn’t about us anymore, is it?”

“Don’t think so,” Grantaire said and reached for his drink. This was going to get so entertaining. Grantaire watched with great amusement as the passive-aggressive bickering about children turned into passive-aggressive bickering about town houses. They only stopped when the first course of dinner was served, but still managed to start again in between courses, even though everyone around them kept making attempts to change the topic.

Grantaire and Combeferre eventually got caught up in a conversation of their own about their favorite food. And once they got a chance to leave their table, they instantly relocated to the bar, where they were talked into trying a dubiously colored cocktail – it matched the bridesmaids’ dresses and the decorations.

“This is...” Grantaire made a face when he took a sip. “Yeah, not really my thing.”

Combeferre looked down at his drink with a smile. “Courfeyrac would love this, you know?”

“I bet no one would have thought I was dating him.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know, Courfeyrac and I are just friends and Floreal knows that just as well as I do.”

“And she doesn’t know that we’re just friends?”

Grantaire shrugged. He couldn’t really explain it. “Maybe she forgot that you’d actually be way too good for me.”

“Don’t say that,” Combeferre muttered. He gave Grantaire a nudge. “Do you want to–”

Combeferre was interrupted by the best man stepping onto the stage to deliver his speech, the whole room falling silent to listen. It was followed by several others, then Floreal and Henry finally cut the cake.

“Right, we’re supposed to eat cake as well,” Grantaire said. “I might explode at some point, sorry about that.”

Combeferre laughed and gently pushed Grantaire over to the dessert table. “Just remember that you’re under no obligation to eat an entire cake.”

“That doesn’t mean that I won’t try,” Grantaire said cheerfully and reached for a plate.

Grantaire might have still gone a little overboard with the cake and after he’d eaten it all, he felt like he could never ever get off his chair again. Floreal came by later on and asked them all kinds of questions – about when they’d finally got together and who’d made the first step and how their first date had gone.

After a while making up stories about their non-existent relationship actually wasn’t that hard anymore. It was fun, thinking up their perfect first date and their first kiss; Combeferre came up with a great story of how long he’d been thinking about asking Grantaire out before he’d finally done it. Floreal found it all really adorable and gave them both a hug before she moved on again.

“Drinks?” Grantaire asked once she was gone.

Combeferre nodded and they made their way over to the bar. It was a lot more crowded than earlier, but at least now no one had the time to talk them into trying obscure cocktails. They each got a beer  and spent some time talking to a few of Henry’s friends from England, who told them a bunch of stories that made Henry seem a lot more likeable all of a sudden.

They also went exploring for a bit, but returned to the party when Floreal and Henry were about to dance their first waltz together. They asked everyone to join them and Grantaire did think about asking Combeferre to dance for a moment, but Combeferre was back to talking to one of Henry’s friends who worked at the National History Museum and he seemed to have forgotten about everything else around them.

Grantaire didn’t mind, he actually found it a little endearing. He listened in on their conversation, nearly jumping out of his skin when Aurélie suddenly slung an arm around him. “Grantaire,” she said, “if I remember correctly you’re a fabulous dancer.”

“Fabulous, huh?”

“Yep, so if Combeferre doesn’t mind,” Aurélie said, smiling at Combeferre, “I’ll drag you off for a dance or two?”

Combeferre nodded. “Sure, go ahead.”

Aurélie blew him a kiss and then whisked Grantaire away. He stuck around for three dances and then returned to Combeferre, who was now standing by the bar on his own.

“Sorry,” Grantaire said. “Did everyone leave?”

“They went to find some bridesmaids to dance with,” Combeferre said. “They’ve only been gone for a minute or two, though. And it seems that Aurélie wasn’t lying, you really are a fabulous dancer.”

“But you don’t have any first-hand experience.” Grantaire held out his hand. “I think we should change that.” He couldn’t go all evening without dancing with his boyfriend. Except that Combeferre wasn’t _actually_ his boyfriend. Grantaire chose to ignore that for now and tugged Combeferre onto the dancefloor with him.

As it turned out Combeferre wasn’t all that bad at dancing either. Grantaire grinned at him. “You never told me that you were so good at this.”

“Well, you never told me either, so I guess we’re even.”

“I guess we are,” Grantaire said. He didn’t mind the slightest bit when Combeferre took the lead. They stayed on the dancefloor for a while, a long while, until Floreal’s and Henry’s friends put on a show for them, and Grantaire and Combeferre returned to the bar. That was where they eventually ended up staying, even a while after the happy couple had retreated and the band had stopped playing.

Most of the guests had booked rooms at the hotel, some were staying at the nearby inn, others were already on their way home. When the last of the people still milling about were starting to disperse, Grantaire elbowed Combeferre in the ribs. “We should go soon, I guess?”

Combeferre nodded. “Yeah, we have a long ten-minute walk ahead of us.”

They said goodbye to the very few people – mostly Henry’s friends – who were still left standing at the bar, then they started walking back to the inn. There were a few people ahead of them, laughing and shrieking, and Grantaire and Combeferre followed them, both of them swaying ever so slightly.

“Open bars are dangerous,” Combeferre said lowly. He nodded decidedly and nearly walked right off the sidewalk.

Grantaire tried to catch him by the arm, but tumbled off the sidewalk with Combeferre, who did his best to catch him.

 Combeferre laughed. “Sidewalks are also dangerous.”

“They are,” Grantaire agreed and wrapped an arm around Combeferre. “Don’t worry, we’ll make it back to the inn, I’m really good at walking home drunk.”

“I’ll just trust you on that,” Combeferre said, even though they both knew that oftentimes there was  someone who accompanied Grantaire back to his apartment – most of the time Joly and Bossuet, on occasion Bahorel, who usually ended up on the other side of Grantaire’s bed or, when they were really, really drunk, on Grantaire’s incredibly uncomfortable couch.

They did make it back to the inn and were handed their room key by a rather amused receptionist before they very slowly, very carefully ascended the stairs. Combeferre did an excellent job at unlocking the door to their room after only two failed attempts.

“Thank you for coming with me, seriously,” Grantaire said as he pushed the door shut. “This was fun. And you were a great boyfriend.”

Combeferre smiled and shrugged off his suit jacket. “So were you.”

Grantaire winked at him. “Thanks,” he said. And actually he’d just wanted to head over to the bathroom to get out of this ridiculous suit, but he wasn’t entirely sober and while Grantaire prided himself in still being totally functional even when he was drunk, he bumped into Combeferre on the way there.

Which wouldn’t have been a big deal at all, except now he was looking up at Combeferre and he was still smiling and Grantaire suddenly felt really bad, not because he’d lied to everyone around him all evening about Combeferre being his boyfriend, but because they’d be going home tomorrow and obviously Combeferre would stop being his boyfriend then.

And while Grantaire was totally functional when he was drunk, he didn’t always make the best decisions. Which was probably why he stood on his tiptoes and gave Combeferre a quick kiss.

Combeferre, thankfully, didn’t look angry when Grantaire pulled away again. He actually looked surprised. “What...”

“Sorry, I just wanted to... I don’t know,” Grantaire said, shaking his head. He laughed, because Combeferre really shouldn’t think that he was serious about this. Because Combeferre was still way too good for him. “Well, I guess it’s time to break up, right?”

“Right,” Combeferre said and turned away, tugging off his bowtie, “of course.”

Well, maybe Grantaire could hope that Combeferre would have forgotten all about that incredibly awkward kiss in the morning. Combeferre beat him to the bathroom, so Grantaire simply pulled off the rest of his suit and put on a shirt, and then he crawled into bed, hoping he’d be asleep by the time Combeferre came back out of the bathroom.

Grantaire wasn’t that lucky, so he just had to pretend. He could hear Combeferre pad about the room, then the mattress shook when he slipped into bed next to Grantaire. And apparently Grantaire wasn’t doing that great of a job at fooling Combeferre.

“I’ll set an alarm so we don’t miss breakfast,” Combeferre said and pulled up the duvet.

Grantaire really couldn’t keep pretending that he was asleep now. “Good idea.”

“Sleep well,” Combeferre mumbled.

Grantaire took a deep breath. “You too.” Suddenly sleeping in the same bed as Combeferre didn’t seem like such a simple thing after all.

* * *

Grantaire woke up with his face smushed into something soft and an arm firmly wrapped around his waist and a leg hooked around his. The soft thing turned out to be Combeferre’s shirt, the arm around him, obviously, was also Combeferre’s.

Combeferre’s alarm hadn’t rung yet and he still seemed to be fast asleep. Grantaire had a debate with himself about whether or not he should move, which would likely wake up Combeferre. He eventually decided to save himself a whole lot of awkwardness and go back to sleep. Maybe that would also help with the light pounding in his head.

He’d almost fallen asleep again when Combeferre finally stirred. Grantaire could feel that Combeferre was very slowly pulling away his arm, then he could hear him sigh. “You’re awake, aren’t you?”

“Yep,” Grantaire said.

“Sorry,” Combeferre mumbled and inched away. “I get clingy when I’m asleep.”

Grantaire hummed. He didn’t really want to open his eyes just yet. “It’s alright, don’t worry about it.”

Combeferre didn’t say anything else and for a moment Grantaire thought that he might have fallen asleep again, but then he cleared his throat. “Grantaire?”

“Yeah?” Grantaire asked.

“You kissed me last night,” Combeferre said slowly. “Why did you kiss me last night?”

Grantaire finally opened his eyes at that. He didn’t really have a good answer to that question. “I was a bit drunk and I felt like doing it. I’m sorry, Combeferre, I really am. I know I shouldn’t have done it.”

Combeferre bit his lip. “What if I told you that I didn’t mind?”

Well, Grantaire was definitely awake now. “You didn’t?”

“Maybe it would have been nicer if we hadn’t both been drunk.” Combeferre smiled. “And maybe this conversation would be less weird if we weren’t lying in bed.”

Grantaire huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, probably.”

“Now that we’re already talking about this...” Combeferre propped himself up on his elbow. “Courfeyrac knew... He told you to take me to this wedding because he knew that I liked you, even though he also knew that I’m probably the last person you’d ever go out with.”

Grantaire frowned. “What?”

“Well, I’m not exactly the most exciting person. I’m just–”

“You’re a huge nerd,” Grantaire interrupted, “I mean, you get really excited about so many things and you have so many interests, if there’s one person here who’s not exciting, it’s definitely me.”

The corner of Combeferre’s lips twitched. “Are you turning this into a contest?”

“No, I’m just saying...” Grantaire shrugged. He couldn’t quite wrap his head around what he was feeling right now. This had all happened accidentally. Well, actually there was one thing he knew. “I liked that you were my boyfriend yesterday.”

“And I liked being your boyfriend.”

Grantaire grinned. Maybe they could just take it from there. Maybe he wouldn’t have to tell Floreal that they’d broken up after all.


End file.
